“And how they kist each other’s tremulous eyes.”

Philosophy will clip an angel’s wings, Conquer all mysteries by rule and line, Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine – Unweave a rainbow.

If I should die, I have left no immortal work behind me — nothing to make my friends proud of my memory — but I have loved the principle of beauty in all things, and if I had had time I would have made myself remembered.

The creature has a purpose, and his eyes are bright with it.

The open sky sits upon our senses like a sapphire crown – the Air is our robe of state – the Earth is our throne, and the Sea a mighty minstrel playing before it.

I love your hills and I love your dales, And I love your flocks a-bleating; but oh, on the heather to lie together, With both our hearts a-beating!

To stay youthful, stay useful.

I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart’s affections, and the truth of imagination.

You are always new. The last of your kisses was even the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest.

Nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced.

My imagination is a monastery and I am its monk.

Wherein lies happiness? In that which becks Our ready minds to fellowship divine, A fellowship with essence; till we shine, Full alchemiz’d, and free of space. Behold The clear religion of heaven!

You are always new to me.

I would sooner fail than not be among the greatest.

I love you the more in that I believe you had liked me for my own sake and for nothing else.

Parting they seemed to tread upon the air, Twin roses by the zephyr blown apart Only to meet again more close.

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.

My eyes are a blessing yet in times like this I envy the blind.

Your eyes are my favorite book where all of my comforts lie.

I am a museum full of art but you had your eyes shut.

I never knew love till my eyes met yours and I saw me forever in the reflection.

I worry there is something broken in our generation, there are too many sad eyes on happy faces.

I was drawn to him completely, addicted his eyes pulled me into the shadows hidden away and all at once his pain became my own.

Kiss me before my eyes surrender to dreamless nights because how can I dream when I live in one?

The man who has no sense of history is like a man who has no ears or eyes.